


Domestic Bliss Is Hard To Come By

by thepeskyunicorn



Series: Modern Gravebone au [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, M/M, credence and percival goes grocery shopping, just indulgent rambling basically, with a side of gellert's stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 14:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10664337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: Credence and Percival has started to settle into a routine and a life. Of sorts.





	Domestic Bliss Is Hard To Come By

Credence squints at the grocery list and pulls down a very specific brand of cereal from the shelf.

“You know,” he tells Percival. “Your handwriting is atrocious. It’s a wonder anyone can read all those reports you scribbled. And what’s with this cereal that you like so much?”

Percival holds out the basket, letting the cereal box land unceremoniously inside. “I write just fine. And there’s nothing wrong with tough, intestine scraping bran. Just the right kind of fiber to ensure regular bowel movement.”

Credence shakes his head fondly, letting his shoulder bump into Percival. His boyfriend and his dour appearance would be thoroughly baffling if not for the fact that Credence knows he only writes in such a messy scrawl when he forgets to use his glasses and he only buys that brand of cereal so he could pick out the raisins and chocolate bits, leaving the actual bran to Credence.

They do grocery shopping together now - an actual domestic chore they both enjoy - and trawl through the supermarket aisle picking out the best bargains, ogling at exotic condiments and spices and bickering over whether they actually need another sponge when they still had three more packets of it at home.

“Did you know, I once work on a case where the murder weapon was a toilet brush.” Percival arranges the items in his basket to make space for orange juice. 

“No!” Credence laughs, half incredulous, half intrigued. “How did the person die?”

Percival grimace, the both of them strolling down the dairy aisle now, half an eye on the yogurts that are half off. “Pretty gruesome, actually. He had it half shoved down his throat - dunno how it even fit in, we were quite sure it was done after the actual death - and the handle was broken off and stuck up his -”

“Credence!” An oily smooth voice rung out from the end of the aisle and the much unwelcome figure of Gellert Grindelwald sidled over. He grins at Credence, giving him a very thorough once over with a lecherous eye, completely ignoring Percival altogether. “How have you been, my darling?”

Percival bristles at the insinuated familiarity of his tone, feeling Credence draw closer to him, hunching in on himself.

“I’m doing fine, thanks.” Credence voice is curt but strong. No wilting daisy here - the days where he would look to the ground and stutter are over. Nevertheless, Percival put a hand low on his back, for moral support.

“Good, good,” Gellert said, oblivious to the rising tension in the air. “So good to see you again, my dear.”

Gellert had been one of the first clients of Credence when he had decided to branch out, create a side business to complement the bookshop. Credence had opened an independent publishing firm alongside Newt and Tina, both of whom have decided to finally settle down. The Imaginatorium Publishing Co. was created to help new authors publish their books with ease, giving them the access to mainstream business without the hidden catches and pitfalls big publishing companies add in.

Gellert had started out as a promising author, already penning a dozen horror stories that were just this side of distasteful. They were full of vivid details, lovingly crafted, with what many whispered was a personal touch. So personal, in fact, that there were rumours that the stories are actually autobiographies, a concrete mark to hint at the darker things he might or might not have done.

Credence believes in giving people the benefit of the doubt, but he also believes in his instincts, honed after his many many years of living with Mary Lou. And despite all the alarm bells in his head ringing, he grits his teeth and offers Gellert a deal anyway, because clients are clients, and he shouldn’t let his personal prejudices get in the way. As long as he avoided getting too close to Gellert, he should be fine.

Gellert, however, has no such qualms. “Why the hell are you here?” Percival demands, voice soft and steely, a panther ready to strike.

Gellert twists his mouth into a moue. “Percy! That tone on you. I’m just here to get a little shopping done.”

Credence tightens his grip on Percival’s arm. “You live nowhere near here.”

Gellert smiles, teeth glinting in the fluorescent bright lights of the refrigerated section. “Maybe I just prefer a change of scenery. Besides,” he sighs, undressing Credence with his eyes so thoroughly he wants to turn around and run home screaming. “I hear that this place has a little extra something others don’t.”

Credence shrinks back, the fight leaving him suddenly. He doesn’t know what to do next, what script he should follow. This is too bizarre, too uncomfortable, and he wants to scratch himself out of his skin, bury himself in Percival and not meet anyone’s eyes.

Percival, an avenging angel in black suit, steps between him and Gellert, effectively using his body as a shield.

“I don’t know what you’re up to Mr Grindelwald,” he says, voice calm as ever, laced with deadly poison intent. “But I’ll have you know I specialise in certain areas of public safety and that I possess a certain skill set that could make you find this… something very difficult.” He lowers his gaze, glowering at Gellert, a cat ready to pounce for the kill. “I’d like to congratulate you on your extremely successful book sales, but if you’d excuse us, now is neither the time nor the place. Goodbye.”

There is a tense silence, a standoff that Credence is unwilling to witness. He keeps his eyes trained on his shoes, count the scratches and nicks in his sneakers, recites Romantic poets and their works chronologically - forward and backwards - until he hear Gellert speak up.

“I see,” he says smoothly, disappointment clear in his voice. Credence peeks up and sees him backing away, a dog with his tail between his legs. “Good day to you, Percy. Credence.” He smiles suddenly, an unpleasant addition. “I hope to see you again very soon. For business talk, of course.” He tips his imaginary hat and strolls back down the way he comes from.

Credence sags against Percival, leaning his whole body against the sturdy on of his anchor. He buries his face in Percival’s neck, blinking back tears.

“Hey, hey,” Percival’s voice is gentle again, soothing. “You wanna go home?” At Credence’s nod, he gently nudges him upright, steering them towards the self checkout counter. “I think that’s enough shopping for a day.”

They ride back in silence, pensive and melancholy, the air between them dark with the memory of the encounter. Credence stews, angry at himself, at Gellert, for having the ability to ruin his day with such small talk.

“This is ridiculous!” He bursts out, sitting upright in his seat, tears blurring over his vision. “I will not - I won’t -” He wipes at his tears jerkily, dragging his sleeves over wet eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continues: “I won’t let that son of a bitch ruin our great day. I won’t.” He sets his chin, even if it does wobble a little.

Percival doesn’t say anything, but he sets a large, warm palm on his thigh, and Credence spends the rest of the short ride home letting the heat radiate from his leg to his whole body.

They set the groceries in the pantry wordlessly, packing it into its respective cupboard in reflective silence. The air around Credence crackles with unhappy tension, and Percival watches as his shoulders screw up tighter the more he wallows in his thoughts.

He moves quietly, scooping up his lover in his arms, squeezing him tightly in a hug. “That’s enough thinking now, darling,” he murmurs, tucking his face into Credence’s ear. “Why don’t we go to bed and have some hot cocoa?”

Credence makes a noise of protest even as the tightness of his shoulders relaxes a little. “But it’s only nine o’clock.”

“Bedtime.” Percival says firmly, nudging them in the direction of the stairs. “We’ve had a long day, and we deserve to lie in bed and drink cocoa and go to sleep.”

Credence wavers at the bottom of the stairs, still unsure and tense. At Percival’s stern look, he gives a sigh and starts to climb.

The cocoa did help, especially since Percival added a drop of whiskey or two in theirs. The cuddles helped even more, especially when Percival starts to ramble on about some inane story of a rookie cop almost setting the police car on fire. 

Credence realised he might have cried a little at some point in the middle of the story - his cheeks are wet, and he’s soaked Percival’s shirt through. But Percival only holds him tighter, let his rumbly voice warm him from head to toe, gently rocking them both until he drifts off to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I really apologise for the gap between this sequel and the actual fic! This is purely self indulgent and the idea kinda hit me one day. Thank you [kamikazesoundsociety](kamikazesoundsociety.tumblr.com) for the encouragement!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)


End file.
